Runners of the Past
by hellamybellamy
Summary: When the good witches and wizards who stopped the war are made extinct, Mare Fineheart is the only survivor. And when the fate of the Wizarding World is placed in her hands, it's up to her to save Wizard-kind. Except, instead of getting her where she needs to be, the Time Turner sends her back to 1977. And she's thrown into the world of the Marauders.
1. Chapter I

**MARE FINEHEART HADN'T GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT** to how the world would end. No one ever did, really. Teenagers—particularly, those just entering young adulthood—had their fair share of existential crises, contemplating what purpose life had, and whether a simple mistake could truly erase a happy ending from existence, and maybe if life had an end or merely several beginnings—but no one could deny, the idea of a mass-collection of civilizations collapsing was utterly terrifying. So no, if you asked Mare Fineheart if she had known what was to come, that her whole world would come to a bleak, abrupt end, she'd tell you, "I can't say that I did."

Thinking about how life would inevitably end, and, with it, everything she'd ever achieved or done was not something Mare could have ever brought up at the dinner table. People would have called her crazy. They'd tell her that she had no reason to be thinking such dark thoughts. Until they saw their world burning all around them, they'd deny that it was possible; "How can you think that? We've gone this long without an incident!"

Mare couldn't just say _that's bullshit_, and summarize the Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction that happened millions and millions of years ago. Mare couldn't just say that maybe planet-Earth would still be there, and maybe life would go on for _you_, but not for her. Not for her friends and family.

No, no, no… To Mare, this was something that even the seers could not have predicted.

The extinction of the Wizarding World. The collapse of the Ministry. The destruction of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley—even Ilvermorny, and Beauxbatons were not safe. Whoever did this, they did not leave a single magical structure untouched. Durmstrang was nothing but rubble. They killed _everyone_. They destroyed _everything_.

And Mare Fineheart was the only survivor.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

In the months following the extinction of the Wizarding World, Mare Fineheart traveled the world (she was only sixteen and never learned Apparation) and visited every magical sight she knew. She was in denial that everything was gone. She refused to believe she was the only living witch. If that were the case, then magic had simply vanished—and if the monsters who did this came back, it'd take merely a swish of their wands to take her from this world to the next, too.

Mare went to France, to Bulgaria, to Ireland, to Scotland, to the States. She even visited Australia. She couldn't count how many times she'd had to raid Muggle houses, to obtain money for the expensive flight-trips. Stealing was wrong, she knew—but she needed to know the fate of the Wizarding community. And yet, every place she went, she found nothing. She remembered going on a trip around the world with her parents as a child, visiting all the famed Wizarding landmarks. Her parents were big on history, and socializing; they'd wanted to introduce Mare to the big, magical world they'd grown up in. It wasn't hard for Mare to remember which countries had magical communities, and where they'd be.

Mare had to admit—nothing came close to the devastating disappointment that was hunting for magical peoples in England. Though she could feel a bigger weight on her shoulders for every country she went to, every blow that hit her when she'd come face-to-face with happy, fictious scenery for every landmark obliterated off the map… it took all that Mare had in her not to scream her lungs out when she realized that it was like Diagon Alley never even existed. Like the Ministry was fictional. She felt like she was undergoing a siege within her mind, like she was having a trick played on her reality, until she found that she could still cast spells perfectly.

The direness of the situation was slowly sinking in. Mare was frantic. She was sixteen. If the world needed saving, it was down to actual heroes—not scrawny little girls still going through puberty. And not to mention, Mare had witnessed the deaths of her mum and dad. She was stricken with grief, still; it took all her composure to even _care_ about the fate of the Wizarding World.

She was terrified, and clueless. Everyone was dead. Everything was gone. She couldn't just go on with her life normally in the Muggle world. She was a Pureblood, and she didn't know the difference between a microwave and a toaster. The first time she interacted with Muggles was when she was nine, and got lost from her parents at King's Crossing (her family miscalculated their Apparation). She was familiar with people who used magic just to clean their kitchen counters; now she was around these strange, ordinary Muggles, who were bound to scream and point if she casted a simple cleaning spell.

After three months alone, of living off stolen money on the streets of London, it occurred to Mare that she never even thought about Wizarding records. She remembered the court cases her mum would act as judge in for witches and wizards who never got their births, or the births of their children, written into legal history.

Many of them lived with Muggle wives and husbands, or were Muggle-born who never really saw a need to legally obtain Wizarding citizenship if they returned to Muggle life after Hogwarts. And then there were Squibs, people born of Wizarding families without the magical gene, and it made Mare suddenly realize—

She wasn't alone.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

"Fuck," Mare muttered to herself, trekking hard up the snowy hill leading to a little town called Arbington. She was dressed in a Christmas sweater and patch-embedded parka she got from a cheap thrifting shop in London, and the pair of pants she'd had since the start of the end. Her feet were encased in a pair of snow boots she'd stolen from a Muggle house in Australia. Her hair hung long, reaching to just below her collarbone, like an ebony lake of tresses, and her bangs were swept to the side so she could see through the icy, snowy air.

Her mum, Farrah Fineheart, had once mentioned her brother—Mare's uncle—that lived in this area, named Sebastian. He was erased from Wizarding records after it was discovered he didn't have magical ability, and he was basically shunned from the family after he reached an old enough age to move out and attend Muggle college. Mare's grandfather had a very strong opinion about Sebastian, calling him a traitor for becoming a dentist when he could have easily done groundskeeping at Hogwarts, but Mare was certain that it really came down to her grandfather's prejudice for Squibs.

Mare had met Sebastian on a number of occasions, most of them being on holidays or during the summer. He lived alone, but had two children with a Muggle woman named Mallory; both were taken from him after the divorce, during the child custody fight. He only got to see them on two days annually, one being on Easter and another being on Halloween. Mare had always thought it unfair, considering Mallory was a food-store manager and didn't deserve the ruling in her favor, but Mare supposed the court had a femme bias when it came to child custody cases. His house was the only Muggle place she'd ever been to, aside from the one time she was lost in King's Crossing, in her first sixteen years of living, and yet, she never learned how to work a television or the difference between a microwave and toaster.

Though it had been a while since she'd last seen him (her fifteenth birthday, if she was counting right) Mare still remembered the look of the house. She remembered playing in the backyard with his Beagle, named Maxwell the III, and the house was on the end of the street, recognizable for its black roof and ashen, peeling siding.

When Mare got halfway down the street, she finally saw it. And she sunk down with relief at the sight of his car (Mare was blissfully ignorant to the idea of types and ages of vehicles) parked out front.

"Thank Godric," Mare said silently to herself, then sprung into a sprint, barely stopping to apologize to any bewildered Muggles as she flew past them on the street. With the burst of the energy, Mare was able to get to the front door in less than two minutes, and she had to stop a few feet to take a breather. She wasn't used to running—not even in her Hogwarts days—so this was new territory for her. She didn't even have to run when she was committing all those burglaries, but that was all thanks to her trusty wand.

Mare could feel the pain of long-distance running in her legs, but tried to ignore it as best as she could, her hand reaching out to press the doorbell.

The sound of the doorbell cemented Mare to the reality of what she was doing. At first, she wasn't sure just _what_ she was doing—whether this was some sort of lucid dream where she thought she had control over the world's ending but would have it slip from her grasp, or this was her _rewriting _her fate a step at a time—but now, she could feel what she needed to do in her bones. She didn't know whether Sebastian would have any reasonable ideas as to what could save the Wizarding World, but she hoped with all her might he would. She had a lot of faith and trust she was putting in him, and if this entire trip was a waste of hope and strength, then Mare honestly thought this would be it. The end of the road.

Through trembling, frozen ears, Mare could hear murmured curses and approaching footsteps. When the footsteps stopped, she began to shuffle awkwardly. She knew Sebastian was looking through the peephole, and he was probably confused why she hadn't Apparated in with her mother. If he was still ignorant to what had occurred to their family.

It was all Mare's fault. She had assumed that her uncle was dead, but she had completely forgotten that he was undocumented and erased from Wizarding records. She forgot that he escaped the radar of her mum and dad's killers. Otherwise, she would have immediately tracked him down.

Like she was doing now.

"Uncle, I'm sorry to be bothering you on a Sunday, but something terrible has happened—" Mare began to say frantically, but she was interrupted by the door swinging open. She didn't have a chance to really take her uncle's appearance in before he was roughly manhandling her inside.

Mare stumbled forward, having little-to-no control over her body's motions, and she would have fell if it were not for the tight grip her uncle had on her arms. Blinking furiously, completely confused by his actions, Mare attempted to wrestle away from him. _"_Uncle, what is this—"

"Sebastian, is this your niece?" said a velvety voice, and Mare froze. She wasn't aware he had guests over. "She looks just like Farrah."

_Farrah. Mum. _"How do you know my mother?" Mare whispered, unable to speak any louder. She looked away from her uncle's shoes—a pair of expensive Muggle loafers—to face whoever it was that _knew Mum. _It was an older lady, with silver hair bound into a tight bun, and eyes so beady and black it looked like she had bottomless sockets on her face. She had a jaw so angular it was almost like a triangle, and she was dressed in Muggle clothes. That made Mare less alert, knowing this woman wasn't one of the supremist monsters that killed her family.

"Don't look so alarmed, child," the woman told her. "I'm a family friend."

"Don't mention Farrah to her, Elise," her uncle said warningly, grip tightening on Mare's arms. He sounded like a man who'd lost everything. And maybe he was. "It's been months, I know, but children were not made to feel grief this strong from such a young age."

Mare twisted herself to look at her uncle. Sebastian had seen better days, that was to be sure. His hair was greasy and worn long, a shadow covering his jaw. His eyes wore bags so sunken and purple they nearly looked like paint, and his face was thinner than she remembered. It made a streak of sympathy rocket through her, against her will; she wasn't used to seeing family so exhausted. Grief looked a lot uglier on the people she loved. "Uncle…" Mare threw her free arm around him, unable to control herself. After months of living on the streets and thinking that everyone she loved was dead, she just needed to feel flesh against her, and that flesh needed to be familiar. The comfort she felt from just a simple hug was refreshing, and regenerated that will of living that Mare had lost the moment she watched her mother die.

Sebastian returned the hug, releasing her arm so they could each hold both around the other. His hug held a vigor to it that surprised Mare; she didn't remember him ever being so happy to see her. They loved each other, she knew, but this was more than she had anticipated; Sebastian was always happiest to see Mare's older brother, Matthew, and Mare was lucky if he even spared a second to greet her during the holidays.

Maybe he was just grateful that someone had survived. Mare was sure he'd gone these last months assuming his entire family was dead—excluding his father, who he probably hated, if what Mare's mother had said was true—and here she was, alive and breathing. To Sebastian, maybe she was a miracle.

At least, until the group of scary-old people in the room had a presence that throbbed, and Mare had to release her uncle. She was still confused that the old lady with the bun—Elise—knew her mother's name. Sebastian was undercover as a Muggle daily, and if this woman knew her mother, then—

"Are you all Squibs?" asked Mare, holding a hand to her uncle's arm. She still couldn't believe that he was alive. She kept having to touch him to assert that he was _real. _"Or—wait—Uncle, I'm sorry—"

Elise smiled fondly. "Yes," she said, gesturing to the six other strangers standing around the room. One of the people standing was a teenage boy, no older than Mare herself. The rest were older, two of them Sebastian's age while the other three were as ancient as Elise. "Theo here barely escaped death himself. He was only expunged from records last year. And you, my dear, are a _miracle_. How did you manage to escape their notice?"

Mare appreciated that they didn't name her parents' killers. She didn't want to cry in front of strangers. "I don't know, actually…" Mare let out a shuddering breath. "I was with my mum in the Ministry. I was there when she died, a-and…" Mare sniffled. "She saved my life. One of them caught us on the Unspeakable wing, and they—they shot the killing curse at me, but she jumped in the way."

Sebastian let out a growl. "Who the fuck even are they? They're wizards themselves. Why did they erase the entire fucking Wizarding World?"

Elise looked at him calmly. "They are former Death Eaters, ones still angered by the Dark Lord's defeat. They banded together to eradicate the Wizarding World of 'impure' magical-beings, ones that rallied against Lord Voldemort in the war. They've killed more than witches and wizards, too—they've done the same favor to centaurs, werewolves, faeries. They're determined to rewrite Wizarding History. That is why they have destroyed all Wizarding civilizations; they're starting their own."

"How—how am I still alive, then?" Mare stammered, completely horrified by what she was hearing. She was there when Harry Potter killed Lord Voldemort, and she thought the bad, the ugly, was all over with his defeat. Yet here she was, a year later, and the Chosen One was dead. As were all of his friends.

Sebastian leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "Who cares? The good thing is you're safe. The Death Eaters have no idea you're still alive."

"Except they do, Sebastian," said Elise, sounding solemn. She didn't falter under the furious gaze that came after from Mare's uncle. "They've been keeping tallies. They have the records that were in the Ministry. They'll soon come after Mare, if they aren't already on the chase."

Mare began to hyperventilate, a sudden chill taking over her hands, feet, and throat as she felt the claws of utter terror marking their territory in her head and stomach. Sebastian felt her shaking, and he quickly pulled her into a hug, patting down her hair as he clumsily attempted to soothe her. If it was any other year, Mare might have laughed; he nearly poked her in the eyeball.

"Mare… you're the only one who can save the Wizarding World."

Once her anxiety subsided and her body stilled, Mare gave the older woman a dubious look. "But… everyone's dead. We have no way of saving it."

Elise snapped her finger, sending a rather-stern look to Theo. He scampered forward with a golden, looping chain-link in his hands. When his hand fell open to let the chain-link drop into Elise's awaiting palm, the object was finally visible for all to see. Mare was shell-shocked to see it was a time-turner, not a necklace. She gaped at it, finally understanding what Elise meant.

When time was but an illusion, anything was possible.

"You will need to go back in time to the day before the attack," said Elise. She pulled out a paper from her back-pocket. "This is a list of all the perpetrators of the attack. You need to get this to Kingsley; he'll know what to do."

"How do you know all this?" Mare asked. She didn't understand how this woman knew everything about the Death Eaters—where they were residing and what their motives were—while Mare had been clueless the past three months, even when she faced down with them as flesh and blood.

Elise smiled softly. "I have a brother who infiltrated their ranks. He keeps me up-to-date so that when we would finally find someone magical to save the day… This Time-Turner here... My brother, Alex, managed to snag it off Theodore Nott. It's the only Time-Turner I know of in existence. All other ones have been destroyed."

Mare nodded. She tried not to feel uneasy as Elise handed her the Time-Turner and list of names. She continued to stare at the woman. "Why can't you do it?"

"We're Squibs, honey. But _you_—you're Farrah Fineheart's daughter. Marcus Fineheart's daughter. They will trust you. They wouldn't trust any of us. There's a prejudice for Squibs in the Magical World that has yet to fade away. They especially would not trust Sebastian, after everything that went down between him and his father."

When Mare looked at Sebastian, he had his head bowed. Mare was struck with an impulsive thought. If she was to face the tide, she didn't want to do it alone. "Can Sebastian come with me?"

Elise looked reluctant. And slightly annoyed. "They may not take you seriously if he accompanies you…" The pleading look on Mare's face seemed to win her over. Disregarding the logical answer, in which she'd send the girl off alone,, the old woman sighed. "Alright."

Sebastian seemed stiff, and quite annoyed with this change of plans, but he wouldn't speak. Mare could tell he was secretly (deep, deep _down_ inside) pleased in knowing he'd be able to watch his niece's back from more than just the sidelines. She smiled slightly, just as he said, "This is going to go horribly wrong, Elise. I can just feel it."

"Oh, shut yer trap," said one of the elders, throwing Sebastian a dirty look.

A dark scowl appeared on Sebastian's mouth, and his fingers twitched. If he were not an ordinary Squib, and had a wand in his hand, then the elder man would have been hexed. A Muggle brawl would undoubtedly have had to suffice, with this lack of resources, but Elise seemed to hold a leash on everyone in this room, because neither reacted the way Mare was anticipating. Instead, Sebastian only said, "What day was it that the Ministry was attacked?"

"July 18th," said Mare instantly. For a moment, she relived the memories that accompanied the date; dying screams, shattering glass, crashing furniture. "A day after…" She was going to say _my mother's birthday _but that was not something she wanted to think about. Sebastian's tight-lipped frown was evidence that he, too, remembered, and he, too, didn't want to remember. Not when there was a chance that Mare would fail, and her mother would stay dead.

"July 17th is the day that'll suit this mission best," said Elise in a firm, _do-not-argue-with-me_ voice, making Mare flinch, thoughts flitting back to thoughts of her mother, and worries that _she wouldn't be able to hold it together in the face of the grief that lingered from her mother. _"We'll need you to immediately find Shacklebolt, and inform him what will happen if he does not form a plan. Make sure your mother and your past self do not see you; otherwise, you may affect the future in not-so-beneficial ways." Elise gave Mare a stern glare, one that reminded her of her father. "And Sebastian—you'll act as guardian. Keep her safe, and get her to where she needs to be."

Sebastian muttered, "Alright."

Elise walked over to Mare on light feet, and pulled the chain-link around her neck. "Good luck," she said with a smile. Mare tried to ignore the blatant fact that everything was going _too fast, _and she couldn't find an honest explanation why _she _had to do it, why there couldn't be any other option. The teenager her age could have been a perfect candidate for this mission.

And what if everything went horribly wrong? Then Mare would be the one to blame, and she'd have to hold the weight of the Wizarding World's fate on her shoulders. Like she was now. The fate of her friends and family hung in the balance, and Mare was absolutely terrified she was going to mess up.

Mare reached to her left, grabbing for Sebastian's hand. He placed it in her small, soft palm, giving it a gentle squeeze for assurance. Mare could feel her heart beating as hard and fast as it could possibly go, and it made a sick sense of panic swell up in her stomach. All she could think of was the several different ways this could go wrong.

Elise pulled back to stand with the other elders, putting a hand on the teenage boy's shoulder. "Theo already has the date set in for you. We will see you soon," the old woman vowed, and that's when things began to spin.

Mare grabbed a firm hold onto her uncle's body, terrified of this feeling, of how it made her feel sick and airy all at the same time. She felt like she was suffocating, and by the shaky feel of her uncle's arms, Sebastian felt it too. They huddled in close, allowing the chain of the necklace to go in between their bodies, and as they were sucked back through time, Mare didn't allow herself to think.

Her mind went completely blank.

When they dropped onto a dark, stone floor, the necklace tore itself from Mare's throat and flew into the nearest wall, making a panging sound that caused Mare to flinch. She was disoriented, and she only caught faint glimpses of the place she was in, but that did nothing to give her a clue as to where exactly she was. Did the Time Turner put her in Sebastian's house? The flooring certainly felt a lot different. Or was this the Ministry? It would have been packed with chatter and felt a lot more crowded if that were the case.

Mare put a hand to her head, and blinked her bleary eyes open—

Only to see she was in neither of those places. This was Hogwarts.

"Um… Uncle Sebastian?" He didn't respond. Where was he? Mare looked around, her panic only ceasing and breath releasing when she saw his prone body slumped against the wall, beside the Time Turner. "Oh, good… you're still here."

Sebastian groaned in reply. His head was at an awkward position against the wall, so it wasn't a surprise that he was in pain. For a brief moment, Mare wondered if he put himself in that predicament, or if the slip through time did it. "What the fuck hit me…" the man mumbled.

Mare shook her head, turning her attention to her surroundings. Hopefully, it was June 17th, 1999. Otherwise, they'd need to make a change of plans, and figure out a way to use the Time Turner. Mare had absolutely no clue what to do when it came to Time Turners; neither did Sebastian. That's what made this mission such a pass-or-fail. Hopefully—

"Oh, Godric! Are you alright?" someone called over to Mare, and hurried footsteps followed the words. It was a girl's voice. And the footsteps were soft, like pitter-patters of rain. Mare turned to look at her, a sheet of curly black hair shuttering over her face. "You look worse than I thought… Do you need help to the Hospital Wing? Pomfrey may have something to help, if you hit your head or anything."

Mare's face cinched into a frown. She took in the girl, confused by her appearance. She looked to be a seventh year, the year Mare would have been going into this year, and had bright red hair that fell around her heart-shaped face in waves, and a pair of emerald-green eyes that flattered her creamy-white complexion. She was dressed in a very modest uniform, and had a Head Girl badge pinned to her robes. "Um… I'm alright. Just a little disoriented, is all. Uh, what year is it?"

The girl looked at her curiously. "1977. Why do you ask?"

Mare's face went white as a sheet. She stared at the stranger—utter shock on her face—and said slowly, "What is your name?"

"Lily Evans, Head Girl," the girl said proudly, a smile on her face. "Oh—are you okay? And—is your friend over there okay? The two of you look… shaken, for lack of a better word."

Sebastian was just coming to, and both him and Mare shared an equally-petrified look.

_They were in an entirely different generation._


	2. Chapter II

| RUNNERS OF THE PAST |

CHAPTER II

* * *

**"****That can't be right,"** said Mare Fineheart, after she'd finally processed the redhead's answer. _1977\. Harry wasn't even _born_ yet. How is that possible?_ She stared at Lily, decoding her features—from her button nose to her waist-length hair, from her spring-hued eyes to her thin, rosebud mouth. She had one of those faces, the kind that screamed _I know you!_ —but it wasn't her face that made Mare's back stiffen. It wasn't even her hair. It was her name.

Lily Evans, the redheaded, green-eyed beauty of Gryffindor. Known in Wizarding World history as Lily _Potter, _the mother of the Chosen One.

And here she was—in the flesh, alive and well, _young _and _bright, _with a critical frown that could send Dementors cowering.

She simply asked, "_What_ can't be right?"

Sebastian, who'd been lying against the corridor wall and staring into space, laughed. His laugh could, and would, make anyone shiver. It was hysterical, and it didn't sound like it was coming from something human, much less Mare's uncle. Mare knew from the bottom of her heart that she was witnessing Sebastian break. And after the things he'd been through, Mare couldn't find it in her to be surprised that he was crumbling. As Sebastian's laugh died and his body calmed its quakes, he spluttered out, "We've been driven mad. That's the only bloody explanation for this—this _shite._" He glared at Lily, whose face had gone pale with shock. "You're not real."

"'Not real'?" Lily turned her gaze, locking onto Mare's, looking incredulous. "Is he inebriated?"

"He's—had a lot to drink, yes," said Mare, her lying so obvious she was surprised when Lily didn't immediately sense it. And at her lie, Sebastian's glare drilled through her head, with an insatiable hunger to argue and refute. "Could you show us to the Headmaster's office?"

_If Harry's mum is alive, then so is _everyone—_and that includes Headmaster Dumbledore. And maybe Headmaster Dumbledore can help stop the Wizarding World's future extinction. _Mare could only hope she wasn't overexaggerating the man's abilities, for it would hurt all the more if she found there wasn't any possible way to save her mother—

Mare stiffened, so violently and suddenly that she momentarily lost her balance.

_1977\. _

_1977._

_1977._

_That means… _

"Are you alright?" asked Lily tentatively, looking like she might have touched Mare if they still weren't so unfamiliar with one another. She scrutinized Mare instead. There was something akin to _suspicion_ in her eyes. Maybe she thought Mare was inebriated, too. "Are you sure you don't need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

"Headmaster—Dumbledore," Mare rasped. As she stood there, she wanted to sob, thoughts of her parents all she could perceive. Pictures flickered past the drive-in screen within her head, from the day of her conception (the pictures of a wailing little baby version of Mare, her Dad's bright and jolly grin) to her sixth year school photos. In this time-frame, they weren't dead—they were _alive—_and she couldn't do a damned thing to see them. Feel them. _Know _they were real. For how could she, when doing so would destroy her future? "Take me to him… please."

Sebastian's anger had all but disappeared, and he materialized beside Mare's shoulder. She knew nothing of his company until he touched her, palmed her arm, gave her the reassurance she needed that she wasn't alone. She had someone who shared her pain. "Mare is a transfer student. A seventh year," he told Lily, putting on a front. That signature _I'm-serious _frown, that cynical brow-dip. Yet he still managed to look and act like he was drunk off his arse. "I'm her father."

_I'm her father._

Mare choked. She couldn't believe the lie he'd just told—one that would worsen _everything, _when they had to leave for 1998, leaving Lily inquiring for their whereabouts—but it was also smart. So _stupid_, yet the best thing he could have ever done. It gave Lily reason to guide them to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Regardless of repercussions, the present was what mattered most; Sebastian's lie granted them the time they needed to fix things. To get answers.

"Oh," said Lily, blinking at them. Both eyebrows were raised. "Well, it's already September 26th,… A seventh year, are you? Why are you transferring just now? We have N.E.W.T.S to prepare for, you know."

"Expulsion," Sebastian said before Mare could answer. Almost instantaneously, she let out a noise, something a cat caught in a mouse trap would emit; _I've not ever had detention, let alone been _expelled, _you twat! _she screamed in her head. Wishing she had the courage to actually _voice _her indignation, when all she could muster was a whine—if she wanted their cover to go unblown. "She was attending Beauxbatons; y'know how they are. Stiff as a board."

_And what is Hogwarts? _thought Mare, twisting her head to glare at him. _Free rein? _

Lily was silent for but a moment, then she said, "Right… I suppose you need to be Sorted, then. It's quite easy; you sit, and the hat—it's a hat that does the Sorting—will put you where suits you best." Then, she made a face—and she stared at Sebastian like a professor would a dillydallying student. "I'm not sure it's befitting for you to accompany us, in your…state."

Mare was a Gryffindor. She'd been in the year below Harry and his friends and had known Ginny Weasley—occasionally Luna Lovegood—from their grade-level classes together. She was introverted and entirely academics-based; if the war hadn't have occurred, if the Wizarding World hadn't gone extinct, she might have even been awarded Head Girl. That was just how she was, a student with good work ethic.

But in this generation, Mare was irrelevant. She had no importance. Never in her life had she felt so much like background, or like a slab of concrete in a setting.

Mare knew where Headmaster Dumbledore's office was, but this new charade as a clueless (_expelled) _Beauxbatons transfer ruined any chance she would have had to desert her uncle and newest acquaintance without much suspicion. Lily was Head Girl and scholarly in nature, judging by her pompous attitude. She'd know where Dumbledore was located and would love nothing more than to have a sense of importance assigned to her.

_What a cruel observation, _thought Mare remorsefully.

Mare knew she was wasting time debating her options, the trustworthiness of a clueless schoolgirl and the likelihood of her suspicion. Her and Sebastian needed to see the Headmaster, _now, _while they had the chance. "_We_ need to see the Headmaster. Both of us," Mare said firmly, Lily startling at her tone. "We, I, there's much work to be done. I'd like to get things sorted out as soon as possible, especially the…erm... Sorting."

"Oh, of course," said Lily, nodding her head vigorously. It seemed like she bought the sudden change in topic, but Mare was still unsure. "You'll need to keep on top of your studies—Hogwarts is an erudite institution, after all!"

Mare's parents had always instilled a _best-of-the-best-or-worst-of-the-worst_ attitude in her, and it certainly showed in her reports; she never took any less than O's, and only occasionally settled for E's. Her O.W.L.s had been exceptional, and her parents had taken her out to buy the latest broom as celebration. She'd been so happy, then, like nothing could go wrong—especially when she'd played a miniature game of Quidditch with her Dad in their background pitch, as chaser versus keeper, and she'd gotten six Quaffles by him. He swore up and down he let her win, but the proud gleam in his eye told her he was pulling a fib—

_What the hell? Stop, you idiot_, Mare told herself. Thinking about the past only made things worse. Especially in this setting, where she'd see her parents _young, _and they'd look back at her with no recognition, like she was nothing more than a stranger. Why was she feeding herself false hope? Had she truly gone mad?

She thanked Merlin himself that she was a mixture of her parents, not a spitting image of one. If she came in contact with either of them, they wouldn't know who she was. They'd just think she was another face in the crowd.

Wanting nothing more than to hit herself—maybe even a wall, as long as she released her anger—Mare threw a careless wave. "Lead the way, then," she said to Lily.

Lily nodded, turning to walk in the same direction she'd come from.

_Things will be okay, _Mare thought. Feeding herself that very false hope she'd been trying to avoid.

Sebastian released Mare's arm, just when Mare had moved to follow Lily. He dropped down to retrieve something from the ground. Lily's footsteps were slow and loud, a constant _clack-clack-clack _in Mare's ears. Her uncle was staring at the object he'd stooped down to get.

Mare shook him lightly.

"Uncle," she hissed.

He didn't respond.

"Are you lot coming? I have N.E.W.T's to study for, you know, and as do you," Lily called back to them. Her footsteps were replaced with Sebastian's heavy breathing.

"Uncle, come on, we have to go." Mare tugged on Sebastian's arm—

Only for her to catch a glimpse of the Time Turner, whizzing fast and steaming, the arrow broken off and the entire thing a flimsy, broken mess. The thing they'd need to get the hell out of here; the same thing that was damaged beyond repair.

"Oh, _God_, no," Mare said aloud, tears brimming in her eyes. A feeling of dread sunk to the bottom of her stomach.

_Clack-clack-clack._

"I never did catch your names," Lily said sharply, from above Sebastian and at Mare's side.

Sebastian quickly hid the Time Turner, his shrewd hazel eyes just as menacing as the girl towering over him. "We didn't throw them."

Mare nudged his side, a nonverbal way of saying _Be nice! _and she swallowed hard. She found it hard to play it cool when everything that could go wrong _did _go wrong, and she was the exemplary tragic heroine of a Murphy's Law campaign. "I'm Marissa," she said through a ball of tears, "and this is my father, Sebastian."

"Hi," Sebastian said rudely.

"Yeah, _hi,_" Lily returned. She was quick and antsy on her feet. "Shall we go now? I'm quite busy."

There was nothing left for Mare now. She could only pray that Headmaster Dumbledore was good with repairs and as understanding as he was in her time of attendance.

"Yeah, let's," Mare softly replied.

* * *

After a five-minute trek complete with unamicable silence and Sebastian's grumbling mouth, as they traveled to the Headmaster's Tower and climbed up the circular, rounding stairwell, they made it to a gargoyle-guarded door within Gargoyle Corridor. If Mare didn't know this as Headmaster Dumbledore's office security, she would have turned and ran; she always hated spooky atmospheres. This one was a doozy. She tucked her arms around her like a safety blanket to keep herself securely relaxed, not even flinching when Lily came forward to the door's gargoyle gatekeeper.

Lily placed her hands on her hips and said confidently, "Lemon Ice Lolly."

The gargoyle didn't make a sound or light up, like you might expect at a closed-off door. It slowly granted her access, sliding across the ground to clear the entrance.

"Come on, then," Lily said, beckoning for Mare and her uncle to follow. Reaching down to hold Sebastian's hand, for reassurance she wasn't walking into her early demise, the two followed Lily into Dumbledore's office.

Mare _somewhat _knew what his office looked like. She'd been there all throughout fifth year up until his sudden death, and only briefly during sixth year, when Severus Snape had taken the position and she became frightened in exercising her duty. Large and pretty, Dumbledore's office was a circular room, complete with claw-footed tables, shelves covered with trinkets, and a large desk that the jolly man himself sat behind. The Sorting Hat was on a shelf behind him, its clunky, brown self like a trollface if looked at in the right lighting.

"Headmaster, I have a transfer student I met out in the hall," Lily said upon the Headmaster's head looking over from his position in talking to Fawkes, his chirping, extroverted phoenix. "This is Marissa… what was your last name?"

Mare paled, her eyes flickering towards Sebastian. Sebastian looked just as panicked, but he hid it much better. Both of them had last names derived from esteemed Pureblood families; they couldn't use either. With Lily here, Mare felt like a fly caught in a web. But Sebastian's face became alight like he had an idea, and Mare knew that's what it was when he said—

"Hey, Mare, it's okay whatever surname you want to use. It doesn't have to be mine," coaxed Sebastian. He put his hand on her shoulder and pet down her hair, giving her a smile. _Dad used to do that… _thought Mare mournfully. "You miss your mother, right?"

Mare nodded, trying not to cry. "Yeah, I do," she said through tears, as they struggled to implement their intention.

"Alright, that settles it, then." Sebastian looked at the twosome that was silently observing him and his niece. "She goes by Marissa Stockum."

The last name he used sounded familiar.

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled from behind his beard, his crescent-shaped spectacles glinting in the light. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Marissa Stockum. You wouldn't happen to be a relative of Abigail Stockum, would you?"

Marissa froze. "Uhm—"

"That would be her grandmother. Her mother is one of Abigail's children. Angela. My ex-wife." Sebastian smiled grimly.

Mare realized, perhaps belatedly, that Sebastian's cover story was through his _actual _ex-wife, Angela Stockum. She was an enigma in the sense that Mare never met the woman, or got to see the children she'd spawned with Sebastian, but she knew Angela was well-off from her parents and was an absolute bitch to Sebastian. Her mother never stopped complaining about Sebastian staying with her. She didn't know she was another Squib, though—she thought she was just a Muggle.

This put things into perspective for Mare.

"Alright, Ms. Evans, you can get along with your prefect duties now. I'll need to discuss a Sorting and living arrangements with Ms. Stockum here," said Headmaster Dumbledore. It was a polite dismissal by any means, but Lily still appeared miffed. "Thank you, Ms. Evans."

"Of course, Headmaster," said Lily. She smiled at Mare—forced, yet an alarming shade of _beaming_. "I'll see you at breakfast in the Great Hall tomorrow."

Lily's departure took several seconds. After she left, Mare felt the Headmaster's act drop, as well as Sebastian's. There was a tense air about the room, something she never would have expected from Albus Dumbledore.

"Abigail's daughter is seventeen," Headmaster Dumbledore said finally.

"I know," Sebastian returned.

"I take that Marissa here isn't a Stockum at all."

"You'd be correct," Sebastian said. "My ex-wife truly was a Stockum, though."

Headmaster Dumbledore interlaced his fingers, looking intrigued. "I'm all ears."

Sebastian opened his mouth, shutting it when Mare raised a hand. "I'll take it from here, Uncle," she said quietly. Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows flew high. "My name is Marissa Fineheart. My mother is Farrah Fineheart in my time, but she was Farrah Greengrass here. My father is Marcus Fineheart. They—"

"Your parents are alive and well here, I assure you, and they are quite young," interrupted the Headmaster, quickly picking up on the conversation's direction. "Farrah is a seventh-year Slytherin, and quite the Chaser, I hear. Marcus is one of my newest faculty members. He's the Ancient Runes professor, and he occasionally fills in for Defense Against the Dark Arts for hands-on lessons. He was a Ravenclaw when he was in attendance. His parents are avid Dark Arts protestors; he himself does quite a lot in activism, I hear. Your resemblance to him is astonishing."

Mare had the same hair and eyes as her father—curly black hair and simmering green eyes. She got her facial structure and ears from her mother. Her tan complexion came from her father's side of the family, as well.

_Dad mentioned that he used to teach…_

"Mom and Dad were polar opposites before they fell in love," said Mare quietly. "Dad's the one that made her break from family traditions in the first place. She was supposed to marry Lucius Malfoy."

"Love does wonders in shaping who we are," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "Now, what has you here? Surely not to see your parents in their youth."

"We—" Mare blinked hard, willing away her tears. She'd been a mess for months, but it was like the wave of grief had waited until this very day to truly strike her down. "They're _dead_, Headmaster. And so are you. The Death Eaters, after they were defeated, went back and destroyed the Wizarding World. Everyone's dead… except me."

Headmaster Dumbledore looked surprised—or as surprised as a secretive old man could exteriorly project forward. "Voldemort was killed?"

Mare nodded. _You should never interact and change storylines when within a different time frame, _she remembered her mother telling her when a little Mare had inquired about Time Turners and their use. She'd felt quite iffy to begin with when her father's Squib friends urged her to retract that belief and change the unhappy ending that was the Wizarding World's utter destruction, but here she was. An absolute _fool, _doing what she'd sworn against anyway.

Sebastian chimed in, "But that's beside the point." He ran a hand through his hair, his other hand's grip tightening on Mare's own. "We weren't supposed to come here. We were meant to go back to before everyone was killed, to warn the Minister of Magic or whatever. But we got sent here instead. I don't know _why, _and I'm going fucking insane thinking I won't be able to save my sister and brother-in-law because the fucking Time Turner broke. We thought you might could help us get back, but I doubt you're capable of doing anything for us—"

"Uncle!" Mare hissed, feeling insulted on the Headmaster's behalf. She tugged on his shirt sleeve, willing him to look at her—and giving him her sharpest look when she got what she asked for. "You're being disrespectful."

"I don't give a fuck," Sebastian grumbled.

Mare wanted to cover her face to hide the red flare igniting her cheeks.

Headmaster Dumbledore did not seem to care that Mare's uncle was taking out his ire on him, as he simply nodded to both of their takes. "Your Time Turner is broken, you said?"

"Yeah. _Fucked, _actually," said Sebastian. He took it from where he'd hid it inside his coat and unveiled the steaming, wrecked contraption. "The little shit that put in our time must have put it in _wrong_, or something. This isn't 1977, and it sure as _fuck _isn't July. And now we're stuck here because the damned thing broke. We're absolutely _fucked!_"

Mare wished Sebastian would calm down. She knew that Headmaster Dumbledore would have a plan—_hopefully, _or at least an idea on how to fix things—and that fretting wouldn't do a thing to help. Especially with such language, illustrating a sort of violent anger that would do well in the long run of thwarting their plans. Mare tried not to think about how horrible she felt, how bitter her uncle was, how ambivalent the Headmaster always, _always _put forward, and focused on the positives.

_There are none._

At least she could relish in her and her uncle's present safety.

"It takes time for a Time Turner to be repaired. Time I'm sure neither of you have," said the Headmaster. "However, it'd be best the two of you remain here, not to jeopardize your safety. Marissa, dear, you're still in school; you can be a transfer, as you told Ms. Evans. As for you, Sebastian—Farrah is your sister, correct?"

Sebastian nodded. "Yes," he said stiffly.

"She does not have a brother attending Hogwarts at the time."

Sebastian's bitter laugh rocked the room with another round of tension. "I'm a Squib," he informed the Headmaster. "I'm Farrah's older brother. Before I was disowned from the family, Farrah actually despised me. At this time, she hasn't seen me in years. I was eighteen and she was fourteen when I left. And I was quite dashing as a young man. Lost the good looks from the moment that old bastard kicked me out on my arse. Mad with rage I refused to be a Groundskeeper."

"Ah," said the Headmaster as he nodded. "It is rather late in the year, but would you want to take a position as the Muggle Studies professor? Many students were displeased after Marlowe's retirement. He was a Squib, too, you see."

"I—" Sebastian looked like he was ready to protest, claim he didn't have the time nor the patience, but one look into Mare's pleading eyes sentenced him to silence. He let out a gruff breath of frustration. "Okay. Sure. What about Mare?"

"Ms. _Stockum _here will finish out her studies while I have my best consultant repair your Time Turner." Headmaster Dumbledore turned his attention to Mare, as she continued to hold her uncle's hand. He looked expectant.

Perhaps belatedly, Mare realized what he wanted. She let out a "Oh!" as she came to that conclusion. "I was a seventh-year Gryffindor."

"Any extracurriculars?" He looked intrigued.

Mare blushed and looked down, letting her hair veil her face in shadows. "I was a Chaser… on the Quidditch team."

"Try-outs have yet to pass. They're Wednesday of next week, I hear." He winked. "Be sure to let Mr. Potter know."

_Oh, Merlin. Harry's Dad. _Everyone. _How am I going to handle knowing that they all die?_

Mare knew it wasn't smart, but part of her wondered what would happen if she told the Headmaster everything she knew. Would he enact a plan to destroy the Horcruxes sooner? Would He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named be defeated before he had the chance to kill everyone Mare knew—and their family members, too?

"Headmaster, I know how to defeat Lord… the Dark Lord," said Mare tentatively. "If you let me, I can—"

The Headmaster held up a hand. "Changing the past has the chance to completely change the future—not always in positive ways. You could destroy your own existence, Ms. Stockum."

"If it means saving lives, so be it," said Mare, to Sebastian's complete bafflement.

"No. Fuck no. Just shut up, and let's—get this shit settled," said Sebastian angrily.

The Headmaster seemed to agree, as he said, "I will have Professor McGonagall put together a schedule, and I'm sure she can conjure up books for you to use. You have a wand, I presume?"

Mare had forgotten she even owned one. She slowly pulled it out of the side of her jeans, where she'd stuck it down between her trousers leg and the side of her knickers.

"Excellent. You and your uncle here can use a bit of my personal funds to find some robes and shoes that will suit you."

Mare found this all to be fast—too fast—feeling whiplash as her uncle grabbed the coin-purse from the Headmaster and whisked her to the fireplace to use it for quick transportation._ Floo powder—I haven't seen this in months, _Mare thought, staring remorsefully.

She hoped things would go well, and the Headmaster would repair their only chance to save her family—her mother, her father, and her brother—before things were too late.

Mare spun and fought a scream as her and her uncle went up in green flames.

* * *

Mare had returned to the castle, bidding her uncle an adieu at the Headmaster's office, with two bags full of clothes. Her uncle had even sorted out Muggle cash from his wallet—to which Mare was shocked he hadn't lost, and that it wasn't much different from the past's appearance in currency—to help purchase her a broom. She loved it, though it was quite old and not so sturdy compared to her trusty Air Wave Gold from home. This one was a Nimbus, a Nimbus 1700. Mare had no idea if it was the newest model, or she'd be made fun of on the field when she got to play.

Mare's broom was safely in her clutches, same as the shopping bags, as she went to Gryffindor Tower. She went up the stairs, then found herself in front of the Fat Lady portrait. She remembered the password that Headmaster Dumbledore had told her, just as she'd left his office.

"Jack rabbit," she told the Fat Lady, after her prompting.

"Why, aren't you cute as a button?" gushed the Fat Lady as she swung right open. Mare tried not to feel awkward as she quickly hurried inside, thinking she could finally breathe.

Only, what she found was a decently populous Common Room, with Lily standing and yelling at one of the blokes occupying the couch from in front of the fireplace.

"You _insufferable, _pompous prat!" screamed Lily.

"Now, now, Lily-flower, no need to be so hostile," said the bloke in question. He was quite handsome, with hair a shade lighter than Mare's and crooked eyeglasses. He had a pretty smile, too—though his smile was more a _smirk, _judging by its confident nature, than it was a natural smile. "You hate the freak, too. He's nothing but an arse. Why are you so bloody defensive of him?"

"If you think for one _minute _I condone hexing someone who's unarmed, then you're—" Lily suddenly stopped, her eyes catching on Mare's awkward figure hovering at the Fat Lady's portrait. "Oh, Marissa! Did the Sorting go alright?"

Mare felt the blood drain from her face at everyone in the room's sudden attention. What most scared her was the four at the couch—the ones _she knew—_who were looking at her curiously. Lily, most of all, seemed eager to hear her response, that previous hostility with the black-haired fellow (_James, it's James) _gone and her firsthand suspicion all but drained away. She was smiling now; _how_ _bloody mad!_

"Yes," Mare said quietly.

"I'm glad you're in Gryffindor," Lily said kindly. She threw a glare at the couch's occupants. "Aside from this batch of buffoons, you'll find good company."

"Ah, don't listen to her!" chimed a new voice, this one belonging to the most handsome man that Mare had ever seen. He had a curly head of charred locks, the same shade as hers, and beautiful grey eyes. He was chiseled out like a man, with a voice that matched his physique; Mare was shocked at just how heavenly he was. And most alarming was that she _knew_ who he was. And she wasn't meant to feel so drawn to him. "We're the loveliest group of buffoons you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting. Now, I must say—you're quite lovely yourself. Who are you?"

Mare blinked at him, utterly bemused.

"Stop flirting with her, prat!" Lily whacked him in the head.

James and Sirius were who had just spoken to Mare. And Professor Lupin—no_, Remus_ was sitting against the couch playing a game of chess with who could only be Peter. They were all staring at her, though, their previous affairs be damned. Sirius was the one who looked most intrigued, but James looked a close second. Mare, with her Muggle clothes and pretty face, was an enigma to them, after all.

"I'm Marissa Stockum… I go by Mare, though," said Mare hesitantly. She hated talking for long periods of time, and she refused to be anything but brief.

The boys leaned forward in interest, but Remus (Mare kept picturing Professor Lupin in her head) stayed back, seeming earmarked in his own questions.

"Nice. You must be Muggle-born. What year are you?" asked James.

"I'm actually Pureblood," said Mare, remembering that her apparent grandmother, Abigail Stockum, was a Pureblood, and so was her pseudo-father to a degree, and it wouldn't hurt to say so aloud. "And I'm a seventh-year."

"Same as us!" said Sirius excitedly while James hurried to ask, "Do you play Quidditch?"

"You're all interrogating her," Lily said angrily, glaring. Her glare was aimed at James, in particular.

"Yes. I'm a Chaser," Mare said in response to James. "I can play Seeker, too."

"Wait! Really? This is bloody awesome!" James looked like he was going to explode.

Sirius winked at Mare, throwing her into cardiac arrest. "He's a Quidditch fanatic," he informed her.

"Are you good, though? _Please_ say you're good," James said pleadingly.

Mare was one of the star Chasers during her Hogwarts years. She'd joined the team as a reserve in Oliver Wood's last year as captain, and she was such a prodigy that he ended up having her take Katie Bell's place in a few games, feigning sickness.

"I _guess_," Mare said awkwardly.

"I'm going to take that as a _Yes, prat, I'm good!_" James told her earnestly, looking to Lily with a pleased smile. "Thank you for bringing her here. I owe you my life. And my entire Quidditch career."

"Shut up, prat," Lily said, but she looked quite pleased herself.

_I don't know what's going on, _thought Mare, looking around her and feeling sick to her stomach. _This is so strange. I haven't a clue what to do while the Headmaster fixes the Time Turner. And Uncle Sebastian… he'll surely grow bored bidding time with a bunch of children. _

Mare could only hope things worked out for the better—and judging by her current company, things would only get worse.

* * *

A/N: HEY EVERYBODY this story is gonna be long and extremely AU. Mare's unlike any character I've ever written. She's awkward, quiet, patient, and kind. She's also resourceful and ambitious. This means tho that she doesn't talk back when people insult her and she doesn't do anything when someone hurts her. She finds it hard to make friends and isn't the most social person. She wanted to be an Unspeakable like her Dad when she grew up for a reason hah.

Mare's endgame romance is Sirius, but I might change my mind and make it Regulus. Or Remus. Compatibility speaking, Marissa and Remus go the best together. But Mare COULD have a romance identical to her father's and fall in love with someone on the opposite side of the war. And Sirius, well, he's just her complete opposite; opposites attract is the shit. This all depends on feedback. Who does Mare suit best?

Also, if you're worried this story might go in the "OH LOOK SCHOOL DRAMA" direction, you gotta realize Mare isn't under oath not to speak out about what happens in the future. What's gonna happen is Mare seeks out to destroy Voldemort herself in order to stop _every _bad event from occurring, even though it might erase her from existence. The whole premise of this book is hey, what if someone tried killing Voldemort, like, twenty years beforehand? Using Harry-inspired tricks?

Stay tuned for next chapter, which will have Mare getting to know her dormmates, the Marauders taking her under their wing, an impromptu sudden schedule inclusion of Sebastian's Muggle Studies class (for those who love Muggles hehhhhh), and, of course, Quidditch tryouts! All the while, Mare will be obsessively thinking about defeating Voldemort.


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